The full seasonal event can be read here! Below are the main seasonal items for quick reference:
1. A thread reacting to the season's weather in some ways.
2. A thread in the part of the city your character doesn't live in!
3. A thread relating to your vocation.
Of The Season
Quote
"Tell Dr. Nate that Gale sent you, and he still owes me for the mushrooms. Except that it takes you a while to reach the clinic, and by the time you do your fever is spiking, and so instead of the requisite message you instead tell the poor soul who greets you that 'A gale'a m'shrooms sent me cus'a my hands.'" - Zephyr in Oh help me, please doctor, I'm damaged
if you want i could tell the truth that this life takes its toll on you
“Last I checked, sunrise was at 7:45am. So, if I had to guess, I’d say it’ll lift at 8.” He mutters, just loud enough to project it up to the Drencher that’s coming quite close to not following the order, one that means he’ll be close to having to figure out just how exactly he was going to try and follow the rules set by his father.
Of course, the challenging look from the blues doesn’t help matters much, reflecting the neon lights that sparkle around them, the quiet sound of the streets aside from the fading away echoes of his fellow enforcers. He swallows hard, shaking his head to the drencher. “I’m pretty sure the last thing you all want is an enforcer telling you that its lifted, in person, door to door.” He takes a moment to fold his arms across his chest now, doing his best to not give anything away despite how underneath it his fingers dig into his biceps. “So for now, unfortunately, Shove It is who you’ll get it by. And you'll just have to wait until it's over, then you can get back to doing whatever it is you do.” He tries to appear disinterested, but the steel meets the challenge in a hawk-like fashion, just waiting for the other man to blatantly ignore the law right in front of him, debating with himself just what he’d have to do after that.
Saints, it’s been a long night.
i spend nights stitching up the loose threads of my soul so in the morning i'm bulletproof
I always thought that I’d die young make some money, be someone
“Is that right? One of Nate’s arms slips out of the window frame so it be hover in front of his face, dark brows knitting together as he stares at his bare wrist. “Well shit,” Nate sways dangerously, “ That’s right around the corner, isn’t it?” He laughs and leans back again, shaking his head.
A right short leaves Nate, his head shaking gently. “ You’re not uh,” the thought is stopped and smothered before it can be voiced, Nate leaning out to distract from it. “I never said I wanted enforcers knocking. I just wanna hear it from you.”
they all love you when you’re gone but who knew life would be so long?
if you want i could tell the truth that this life takes its toll on you
A dark brow rises in response to Nate’s mock of looking at a wrist bare of a watch, huffing another sigh as his chin lowers slightly and he keeps his gaze focused on the way the Drencher seems to enjoy taunting him. At least most of him is covered, hidden away from view and recognition aside from the blue lines that trail down the edges of his uniform and the exhausted steel that challenges bright blues in the neon lights of the Alley.
And when the next comment comes, the confusion that flares in his gaze is palpable, the wrinkle between his brows forming as they pinch together and he peers up at the man in the window, forgetting himself for a moment as he tears his gaze away because he can feel his cheeks burning under the gaze. “Why me specifically?” He asks before returning his gaze back to Nate when he feels like he has some control over himself – or maybe it’s just the fact he’s digging his fingers into his arms even harder now. “Aren’t we all the same to you?” That’s his one solace despite the Enforcers being shit and the interactions between them and the Drench. At least here he was simply another among the ranks, not the worst Bratena offspring there was.
i spend nights stitching up the loose threads of my soul so in the morning i'm bulletproof
I always thought that I’d die young make some money, be someone
A laugh rocks through Nate’s chest, his feet kicking in an immature peal of delight. “We don’t think you’re all the same. I mean, you haven’t written me a ticket or told me to fuck off or thrown anything yet.” Nate’s tone is openly mocking now, painted poorly over the surprise that the gentler enforcer hadn’t been eaten alive yet. His face has shifted minutely though, interest giving way to open hunger. If he’s the first to notice a snack, can he be blamed for partaking?
“You a pity hire or something? You know someone?” Nate’s leaning out of the window to look at the enforcer now, squinting as if somehow it will be someone he recognizes.
they all love you when you’re gone but who knew life would be so long?
if you want i could tell the truth that this life takes its toll on you
He frowns hard behind his mask as the laugh leaves the other man, brows furrowing despite the only part of his face Nate would be able to see would be the spot of tanned skin of his face, the steel eyes, and maybe just maybe, the light dusting of freckles along the bridge of his nose. Everything else, wrapped up tight. “Because I’d rather not do things that way.” Because there’s so many others right behind him that would fill that mantle, why should he add to the mix?
But he visibly stiffens when Nate asks whether he’s a pity hire or whether he knows someone, jaw clenching tight as he scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Something like that.” He grits out, figuring it best he avoids the whole explanation to a stranger – let alone the kind that his father deems nothing more than The Enemy. So he swallows hard, fingers digging deeper into his arms to where he knows he’ll find bruising beneath those gloved hands of his. “Or maybe I’m just not inclined to get my hands dirty.” He rolls a shoulder in a shrug, an act of indifference as he turns slightly away, forcing himself to look away from Nate from fear he might look too long.
i spend nights stitching up the loose threads of my soul so in the morning i'm bulletproof
I always thought that I’d die young make some money, be someone
“Soft.” Nate accuses, the hungry edge in his eyes spreading to his voice like a threat. “They’re gonna ruin you. The soft ones don’t last.” All at once that sharp interest falls away, Nate looking up the alley again while his free hand finds its way into his shirt and scratches at his belly.
Even the admission that he’s right isn’t enough to truly refocus Nate, his gaze still fixed off into the distance, his fingers tucking into his waistband lazily. “So you just haven’t had your first real taste of power yet.” A scoff leaves him. “I’ll be sure to stay out of your way after it happens.”
they all love you when you’re gone but who knew life would be so long?
if you want i could tell the truth that this life takes its toll on you
“Tell me about it.” He grumbles under his breath, not enough for the mask to project it as he loses Nate’s interest and something about it seems like he’s missing out suddenly. Like with Nate’s focus on the path up the alley where his squad had disappeared down, he’s left in the shade of something that could have been exciting, tantalizing. So he tries to refocus it, even if it makes him panic a little, the thrill of it is enough that he craves it for some inexplicable reason he can’t explain.
So he turns back toward Nate, even if the piercing blues aren’t on him, and takes a step closer to the window. “See, the thing is that I have, and I've found it tastes like nothing more than ash on my tongue.” He comes closer as if it would quiet his voice, but it does little in the effect of the modular adjusting his tone. But from this closer distance, it struggles to mask it completely, the plate accent sneaking through it that’s uniquely close to the Bratena House sectors own accent, even if he tries to hide it.
i spend nights stitching up the loose threads of my soul so in the morning i'm bulletproof
I always thought that I’d die young make some money, be someone
The gambit works, though maybe not in the way Sunjata would expect. Those blue eyes return to him, narrowed in silent confusion and suspicion. Maybe the words alone wouldn’t have been enough to give Nate pause, but the words and the accent, the edges of it that slip through, so proper and edged it makes the hair on the back his neck stand up.
Without thinking about it too hard, Nate leans further out of the window, trying to take advantage of the enforcers closeness to get a better look at him. Searching for the missing overs to make this puzzle makes sense. “What are you?” He trusts too much in his own self, the lean finally proving too much for his balance as he tips out the window. It’s not a far fall, but it drops him a little too close for comfort to the enforcer, especially when he’s too dazed to do anything more than lay on the not nearly soft enough dirt and groan.
they all love you when you’re gone but who knew life would be so long?
if you want i could tell the truth that this life takes its toll on you
There it is, the attention swings back to him and he’s like a sunless plant granted its first rays again, only in a strange way – a way that has Nate leaning closer and Sunjata not exactly sure what to do with this new closeness. “Wrong.” Is all he offers, some kind of young pout crossing his tone – exhaustion creeping in and making him more loose lipped and bold, but luckily for him it’s covered quickly as he scrambles when Nate leans just a little too far out the window.
He doesn’t get close immediately, not when he’s unsure if this is an elaborate plan or not, but when the other man lays there for a few heartbeats too long, Sunjata clenches his jaw and his thick boots scuff across the ground as he approaches, peering down at Nate with those same curious and albeit weary steel eyes. “Are you okay?” He asks rather than what any other enforcer would say.
i spend nights stitching up the loose threads of my soul so in the morning i'm bulletproof
I always thought that I’d die young make some money, be someone
A thumbs up precedes the breathless gasp of “Fantastic.” Technically he had landed right, and the floors weren’t s as high as they could be, but an eight foot fall would knock anyone on their ass. The eyes that teach the enforcer now couldn’t be more different than the ones that had watched him from the windows, wary aiding, waiting for any sign of a threat so Nate could force his aching body to move.
In fits and spurts Nate pushes himself up onto his elbows and immediately sucks in a breath between his teeth, rolling so he can cradle his Ive one side and inadvertently shifting towards the enforcer.
they all love you when you’re gone but who knew life would be so long?
